


Moth to a flame, remember?

by LostBoy626



Category: One Direction
Genre: Asshole Harry, F/M, Heartbreak, M/M, Mentions of Toxic Relationships, Sad Ending, Tags are shit, Unrequited Love, i do not condone nor suggest these types of relationships, im sorry, the story is good? Maybe?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 05:28:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20334817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostBoy626/pseuds/LostBoy626
Summary: Like I had just hung the Stars in your sky, given you the very reason the admire the darkness surrounding you, and you’d given me the very moon I sit and look at tonight. A sense of desolation wrapping around me, but no longer suffocating. It’s comforting in a toxic way, to know that despite the closing of our story, I will truly never lose these parts of you. The parts forever immortalized in my mind; meant for only me to keep.That light in your eye, the one she always bragged about as she waved photos of the two of you around, now appeared when you were talking about me. Not her.I fell in love quickly.





	Moth to a flame, remember?

**Author's Note:**

> This... this is a little something written entirely fictional but it is also a little close to home so... enjoy! 
> 
> It is written in the formats of a letter, or more as this is Louis’ letter to Harry. :) not how I typically write, but 🤷♀️

Dear You,

It had recently come to my attention that I have been bottling up my emotions, denying myself to act on any of them. I’ve been suppressing them. For so long, that’s all I could do. I didn’t have anyone I could truly talk to, to entrust them and let them see the darkness inside my brain and hear my deepest thoughts. 

Until you came along. 

We talked for hours on end, about everything and anything. Do you remember our first actual talk? I do. I needed time to think, so I walked across the street to the church, the one in front of the house that is the safe haven for all of us young, rebellious teens who just wanted to feel wanted? It was a full moon that night, and for some god awful, unknown reason, you decided to follow me. You found me sitting in the stairwell. You told me that if I didn’t want to be found, or bothered, I should have picked a better hiding spot; a more secluded one. Then you forced me to come up and talk to you. 

Truth is, I saw you. I wanted you to find me. To chase after me and show me I was worth a little effort. 

I didn’t know you all too well then, so I let you do most of the talking as we walked around that parking lot in the almost dark. But then something changed. I felt myself compelled to talk to you, so I did. I told you my hobbies and stuff, nothing serious. Then the topic changed to my sister. It was like with her in the conversation, you felt even more desire to talk. I turned on a faucet and broke the handle and you poured everything out of you like water that so easily cascaded off your lips and every single drop was tainted with her name. 

You told me how you thought both me and her were bitches, and how I proved right, but her not so much. Your eyes lit up as we talked more and more about her, and soon, our entire talk was lost and forgotten, and she was the center of attention. I was used to it though. Everyone liked her. She is and will forever be the chosen one; favored over me and I’ll forever be her comfort cushion. 

For some reason, a reason that is still unknown to me, even with all the knowledge I have now, I felt hurt. Which lead me to asking if you like her. You suddenly got serious, as serious as I have ever seen you before then, and said no. I asked if you would ever date her, and once again, you said no, this time with a hint of disgust.

You were always a terrible actor, at least when you weren’t playing the parts I craved and refused to see the flaws like cracks in your porcelain skin. 

Still. You must have realized that I didn’t believe you, because you promised me. There, in front of that grey car, underneath that growing tree and the bright moon, you promised me you would never date her, and that she was nothing more than a friend. That was the first of many promises you were to break. But for some reason, I believed you, even with this ache in my gut that told me I shouldn’t; that you were lying. That is your strong suit, isn’t it? Lying. Threading together words so meaningless you have no problem breaking them even though they’re held together with the thin bounds of trust. You didn’t mind breaking trust, though. 

A few days later… You guys were dating. It hurt me a lot more than it should have, and I tried to talk you both out of it, but neither of you listened. You didn’t care that I said it would end badly, or that a lot of friendships would be ruined in the end. You only wanted each other. Our next talk was a much deeper one, and it was on top of the roof of the car port. I could see everything from up there. Like the first time, you followed me. You always seemed to do that, even when you were dating her. Following me without realizing you were doing so, searching for something in my shifting eyes I was sure you’d never find and apparently, you didn’t. 

We had been with her at work- a request she made of you and in your quest to be perfect, you drug me down along with you and demanded I come to keep you company, and in the midst of your rescue mission to save your girlfriend from boredom, I had decided I needed some air. You guys were suffocating me with all the cutsie, intentional physical contact and vocally pronounced proclamations of love. So, with the knife in my pocket, I made my way up the stairs, allowing the stars to comfort me and erase the images of you watching me as you kissed her. What was that, Harry? Hmm? Because I still can’t fathom what would compel you to do that. 

And I fear I never will. Even now, with the faintest clue as to how the folds of your mind work. 

It took you awhile to find me. You looked all over down there, scoured the asphalt like I was hiding beneath the crushed cigarette butts, and just when you were about to give up, I took pity on you and threw something down. I can’t remember what, a lighter, maybe? And you found me. I swear, yours eyes shined brighter than the damn stars when you seen the silhouette with the twinkling stars as her background, was me. 

We sat up there, me leaning against the wiring, and you sitting on the edge, and we talked. I told you things I haven’t told anyone ever, and you told my things you hadn’t told anyone. Still to this day, I haven’t told a single soul. That was our conversation, and nobody will ever know what we talked about. The moon and the stars were the only one that heard anything, and I plan on keeping it that way. With your track recorded, however, I’m sure my secrets were passed off to strangers ears in a taunting manner meant to jab at me and poke fun of me without my knowledge; proving I didn’t hurt you like you hurt me. 

Then she called us. Shattered the moment, the mood. Erased the connection forming between us, bounding is together in a way she could never understand and I loathed her for it. For ever being weak enough to openly admit a fear when jealousy was the true advocate and influencer for her actions. 

Two males had come in and made her uncomfortable, and like the good dog you were, you scampered back down those stairs and went straight for her. Leaving me alone, once more. I was always watching you leave, wasn’t I? Your back became my favorite visual. 

I stayed staring at the half moon for a little while longer, then I followed you. I watched everything from there on out. I watched as you fell in love with her, and as she fell in love with you. It was quick and the fire inside you both was enough to light an entire building; encompassing the earth in a cocoon of light that brushed across every dip and plane before it combusted and took us all down with you. Scorching hearts never meant to be yours, but you claimed nonetheless.

I was envious of your relationship with her. I had to watch as the person I liked, fell in love with the person I’d always competed against and gotten nothing more than participation badges to show the effort I made in attempting to outshine the sun. For the longest time, I tried to hate you two. I really did. And it seemed to work with her, I’ve seemed to always hold a level of hatred for her, but you somehow weaseled your way back into my frozen heart and found a spot there for yourself. 

I walked in on you guys having sex once, and let me tell you, that was not only awkward, but painful. Shredded my heart into pieces and you could see that in the way I went rigid, stumbling over my words as my hands clawed at my chest and you smirked as you rolled over without pulling that blanket up to cover your body, flaunting yourself in the soft white light of the lamp. Your actions were later written off as a deep affect from alcohol, but I’ve always known better. Just became a damn good liar to convince myself otherwise. A few days later you guys got into a fight, and like every single other time, you came to me. I was the the bug zapper and you were the moth, and like it or not you were always drawn to me despite your attempts to stay away. 

We sat outside on the curb, shared a cigarette, and stayed hidden beneath those two trees, and black garbage cans. You asked me why she was the was she was. I told you she had always been like that. I tried to warn you then that things would only get worse, but you didn’t listen. Then we moved back to my moms house, and everything changed with you two. Things got more intense and you guys were always fighting. But always, without a doubt, you talked to me. 

Moth to a flame, remember? 

We talked through all hours of the night as we played minecraft or watched silly movies. Netflix and chill, best friends addition, remember? To this day, I still find it amusing that we seemed to only talk at night. The night has always comforted me, up until tonight. I feel like it’s closing in on me, like the monsters hidden in my closet are going to jump out and pull me in; strangle me with their bones and end what you didn’t have the balls to. 

She always got mad at you, too. She started to notice you drifting away. She started to notice all the time you spent with me, and all the alone time we had with the insistence we only needed the close proximity because we’d grow bored otherwise. 

As much as I hate to admit this, she knew my habits well. She knew I didn’t like to be touched without initiating the contact, so she could tell things were changing between the two of us when you started to sit on my lap, or when you would let me play with that precious hair of yours that nobody was allowed to touch, or when we would lay on my tiny ass bed and play games on my phone, always cuddling. She lost her shit when you woke me up, naked, and straddling me. God, I’d give anything to see her face again.

It all clicked inside of her then, and she told you she didn’t want us to be friends anymore. It was either her, or me. For a split second, I thought you were going to chose me, but come on, who was I kidding? She was my competition. She was always the chosen one. I was nothing more than her brother our parents never meant to conceive; the boy pushed to the back of family photos, always hidden from prying eyes and cropped out because laying a claim on me was almost as embarrassing as when you walked in on your grandparents having sex. It was a disaster, a wrinkly, chaotic disaster you couldn’t look away from and that was all I was. Held together by thin strings, radiating with the aura of a composed explosion. I was a beautiful disaster, yet you couldn’t look away. 

Could you? 

So I accepted her wish, and tried to stop talking to you. We went for a couple of hours, if that. When you walked in a room, I would leave, and vice versa. Creating a childish air of hide and seek and in our pursuit of tagging the other, you slipped up in your slide across my hand and miscalculated, I assume, because you drug me through the kitchen and into the backyard. 

Then you sat outside with me and told me I was your best friend, and that you weren’t going to lose me over her jealousy. 

And I stupidly listened to you, knowing your cassette tape was damaged and stuck on a loop; only ever repeating promises that had been said before and broken, only now the words were detorted and oh so fucking precious to my eager ears. 

That was the beginning of a very fucked up relationship. 

We did everything together. Every fucked up thing that went through my mind, was also running through yours. For a while there, we were inseparable, and everyone started to notice then. They noticed the frequent gazes and the long touches. They noticed how we always sat next to each other and insisted we do everything together. She noticed most of all. The way you used to look at her, was the same way you were looking at me now. 

Like I had just hung the Stars in your sky, given you the very reason the admire the darkness surrounding you, and you’d given me the very moon I sit and look at tonight. A sense of desolation wrapping around me, but no longer suffocating. It’s comforting in a toxic way, to know that despite the closing of our story, I will truly never lose these parts of you. The parts forever immortalized in my mind; meant for only me to keep. 

That light in your eye, the one she always bragged about as she waved photos of the two of you around, now appeared when you were talking about me. Not her. 

I fell in love quickly. 

Still, I denied all their accusations and insisted we were only friends. Friends who would wake up to each other staring at each other, and that one time when I woke up to you straddling me, naked, but that's besides the point. Wasn’t it? I always felt light and warm with you. Surely their questions, their accusations, could fall on deaf ears and mean nothing if only we pretended a little harder; envisioned our fantasy a clearer- giving us an eternity of memories that truthfully only lasted for split seconds. 

But your smile…  _ that _ will always be the anchor in my mind, my most favorite melody my heart sings. 

You made me feel like for once, I was being chosen over her. Then you left. God, talk about being over dramatic, but I felt like my world was crumbling down. I was crying on the inside as I had to pick her up off the floor and wipe away her tears, but who was going to wipe away mine? Nobody. They couldn’t see them. They didn’t notice how much pain I was in. That the very earth was weeping beneath my feet, shattering into nothing more than chunks that exposed a hollow core I envisioned would swallow me and never set me free. 

They never noticed. 

But you came back. This time, I hated you. I really did. It lasted for a few hours, but I don’t care. I made the effort to truly hate you, and that’s all that truly matters. Hours sun up my self worth, but around you, I was never worth more than you claimed. 

Some days, in your eyes, I could see the golden hues in the reflection of your eyes meaning I was the very gold so many fight over. Other days, the silver, almost murky grey, was the telltale that my worth had dwindled drastically and I was a nickel, if that. Never worthless, but always changing in currency depending on your mood. 

You hurt me and I had to comfort myself while you were in there comforting her. Whispering those words of comfort to ears that heard nothing more than jumbled words. But I heard them. And I listened to them. And I caved, even though they weren’t for me. They were. 

Then you told me you would never leave, that you promised you would always be there for me and that this was your family now. 

Stipid part is? I believed you. 

The cracks slowly started to heal and we began making plans for my birthday. God I was excited. And you left again, three days before my birthday. That birthday was the worst one yet. She wouldn’t celebrate or eat the cake because you helped pick it out. My special day, was ripped away from me and centered around you. It hurt so much. Everyone seemed to be too worried about her to be worried about me. I didn’t care, though. I was used to it. These walls weren’t put up for nothing, right? 

For the third time, and the last time, you came back. You apologized for missing my birthday and tried to make it up to me. But how could you do that? I was broken. We were broken. Our trust? Gone. Our friendship? Gone. To me, at least. You wouldn’t let go. You kept going until I finally let you in. I still remember that day, too. You guys were sitting outside under the tree, and I walked out to go somewhere with someone else. You jumped up and ran over to me and gave me this big hug and whispered to me that I would always be your best friend. You called me your shooting star. A miracle given to you when, one night, you’d become desperate enough to pray for someone good. 

Apparently, though, I wasn’t as good as you claimed.

Yet you sounded so sincere at the time, and against my better judgement, I let you in. I don’t let people in easily, so my family should have known something was up when I gave you not one, not two, but three chances. Our friendship was better than ever. I made you a birthday cake. I worked my ass off on it too, but guess what? You didn’t show up. The cake went to waste and I went to bed that night feeling worse than I have ever felt, because my sister explained in detail how you fucked her in your grandma's backyard the week before. 

I felt sick to my stomach everyday following that, for reasons that wouldn’t back up my arguments. I held no rights over you, couldn’t claim more than a familiar friendship had passed between us. I was the freak, the odd one out; the little gay boy you hung out with the appease my grandmothers insistent pleas to make me not feel lonely anymore- until she, too, realized I was a freak. A freak who, in her eyes and those who surrounded us, could see I had fallen for you. 

You came over the following day and marked off your disappearance with a false claim of family duties and having to spend your birthday with them. You weren’t dating her this time, and that somehow gave you every reason to use me. 

Because on that porch, the same one where you shoved me against that wall and we took turns ripping off each other’s close in a desperate attempt to get closer and let all the anger and sexual tension out, and you fucked me against that wall in what I have always described as one of my most favorite sexual encounters; is the same place I last saw you and somehow to good memories are absent. 

You continued to use and fuck me at your convenience for months after that. Always a secret, remember? Our own little secret. It was for convenience, anyway, no feelings were attached and never would be. It was raw fucking for the sake of blowing off steam. And we’ll just forget that night you cried to me as you made love to me because I was who you wanted to take it slow with for the very first time; I was a  _ man who made you weak.  _ You felt all of me in that moment, and you couldn’t stand it, could you? The way I made you feel weak. Loved. Wanted. Full. Whole. You couldn’t stand allowing yourself to let me in. 

I ignored the lashing words spoken the next day to be brushed off because you were hurting and hiding and I wanted you. And that want seemed to write off all your flaws because despite everything, I allowed you to continue using me as I fell even more in love with you each and every day. You fucking broke me while pretending your hands were molding my clay body to help build it into a beautiful vase and not the clumped fucking bowl you ended up making. 

And then you disappeared. 

I don’t know if I was as hurt this time. I was grateful, partially, but I still missed you. I fucking hated you, and I still do. Numbness kicked my ass and made me forget how good you made me feel because all I wanted to feel was the pain. Hell, I miss you to this day. Toxic traits and all, venomous words and tendency to be emotionally shut off. But I need to let go. I can’t keep these feelings bottled up. 

So here it goes. 

I love you. I have for a long time now, but I need to let you go. I can’t keep pinning after you. We had sex. For months. But it was only fucking, like you always told me. We weren’t an item. We were a thing born out of boredom and those other girls were a convenience, too. I was merely an experiment.

But you have a girlfriend now. A real girlfriend and you seem happy. I don’t want to ruin that, so this is goodbye. My best friend, my once fuck buddy and my very first love (cheesy) and my very first self destructive and thoroughly crushing heartbreak. 

I will never forget you, but I won’t always remember you. 

I am going to give up on the hope that you will one day return and admit you loved me, because I’m not sure I love you much anymore. Your hands are ghosts on my body but your words are no longer pulsing brushes against my heart. The sex was good, but You hurt me far too much, and I could never trust you again. Not completely, at least. I would always expect the worst to happen with you, and that really isn’t a way to live. 

So, goodbye to the guy I was invisible to that entire first year. Goodbye to the man I have watched fall in love with my competition, and break not only her heart, but mine too. Goodbye to the man who used and abused my heart, mind and body and crushed my hope for any relationship between us that first day on the porch, our very first time, where as soon as you were done fucking me you pulled away, refused eye contact, and mumbled something about needing a cigarette before you walked down the stairs, heaving, cock still out and on display and down my driveway. 

Regret was pulling your shoulders taut. But that look you threw me over your shoulder had done me in and my jelly legs knew I was gone for you and it would forever be an unrequited love. 

And goodbye to the boy that will always live on in my memories. I know who you are, Haz. I've seen every fucking part of you, good and bad. I know the person you keep hidden, so always remember that. He may be buried deep down in there, but you should let him come to light more. Even if it means coaxing you into slow, soft sex to get you to show some kind of emotion, show him to your new girl. He can’t simply live in my head. Other people need to know him, too. 

Please, show him to your new girl. Show her you’re a human too, threaded together with complex emotions too much for even you to sort out and handle; and show her you care and she’s not a piece in your board game. Treat her right. And please, for the love of god, don’t hurt her or break her like you broke me.

You will always be in my heart, but you no longer have it.

Forever and always, your star. 


End file.
